It's Groundhog Day! Hug (and trust) a meteorologist.
When it comes to predicting seasons, humans are way better than rodents.
It’s a week of celebrations for meteorologists! February 2 is Groundhog Day, and February 5 is National Weatherperson’s Day, sometimes lovingly called National Hug a Meteorologist Day.
Because let’s face it, meteorologists take a lot of flack. They’re the butt of jokes repeated ad nauseam. (I can’t count how many times I’ve heard something like “must be nice to be wrong all the time and still get paid.”) More seriously, they take a lot of abuse on social media, especially if (1) a forecast goes awry in the eyes of the beholder, or (2) they dare to interrupt a TV event to communicate life-saving tornado or severe thunderstorm warnings. Female TV meteorologists are mercilessly ridiculed for their looks and weight and clothes and subject to stomach-churning harassment. It’s not a profession for the thin-skinned.
And we are certainly better at our jobs than rodents. So why do the folklores and critters get so much more positive attention than the scientists?
Maybe it’s because the stars of the lore are fuzzy and cute. Maybe it’s because humans like and remember stories more than logical proofs.
But what if I told you that the folklore forecasts are wrong way more often than the scientists? So far, folklore has yet to stand up to scientific scrutiny. (I wrote about it in an article for the Washington Post back in October 2022.) Give me the science any day of the week. I trust my fellow scientists, because I know they are working with sound processes and good intentions.
If you ask a room full of meteorologists why they chose to study the weather, almost all of them will fall into one of two categories of origin stories. Many became interested in weather when some kind of big event struck in their youth - a tornado, hurricane, blizzard, flood, or big coastal storm, for instance. A smaller portion, but still significant, studied weather because they were afraid of it as a child and wanted to learn more about it to overcome their fear. (There are a few who became meteorologists for other reasons, such as loving math and wanting to apply it. But they are rare exceptions.)
Anyone care to guess which category matches my meteorologist origin story? I’ll reveal mine in another newsletter down the road :).
So, while I give a nod to the furry friends for sparking some interest in seasonal forecasts, my true tip of the hat goes to my colleagues in weather and climate who are making the forecasts, researching to improve the forecasts, and honing their skills to communicate the forecasts. Who do you trust for weather forecasts and information?
Groundhog Day
Chubby rodents unite! It is time for your moment in the sun. Or shadow. That’s right, everyone’s favorite national weather holiday is February 2: Groundhog Day.
Tradition holds that some old men in black coats yank the Chosen Groundhog (Punxsutawney Phil) out of his den on the morning of February 2. If “the groundhog” “sees” his shadow, then he is scared into hibernating, a sign of six more weeks of winter to come. If not, then spring is approaching.
I have questions, as all scientists do when presented with a hypothesis to test.
Exactly how does one define “six more weeks of winter”? If we get a warm-up in the middle of that six weeks, but it’s wintry in the beginning and the end, does that count? Does it have to snow to be “winter,” or is it enough if it’s just cold? If it was wintry for just five more weeks instead of six, does that count as a “good” forecast? The phrase “six more weeks of winter” plays fast and loose with the word “winter,” let alone the precision of “six more weeks.”
Where is that six more weeks of winter? Is it for just the area around P. Phil? All of Pennsylvania? All of the East Coast? All of the United States? As a Michigan native and Nebraska resident, I protest that a pudgy furball in Pennsylvania knows anything about my weather! Exactly what is his sphere of influence?
If I live somewhere where it’s pretty common to get wintry weather through March, and the Chosen Groundhog predicts six more weeks of winter, does that mean my winter actually gets shorter if he sees his shadow?
On the flip side, when he doesn’t see his shadow and forecasts “early spring” (like this year), how early is early? Now? In five weeks instead of six? Besides the calendar, what marks the arrival of “early spring”?
The moral of the story is this: The groundhog’s forecast is, in fact, worse than a dart board. Scientists have studied it, doing the best they can to define the precision of “winter” and “six weeks” (because scientists can only study a hypothesis if it is clear and defined). The legend is like a horoscope - so poorly defined that it’s open to a wide range of interpretation. People can read a lot of different meanings into it without being demonstrably false.
Stick to the less furry, more scientific prognosticators at the National Weather Service’s Climate Prediction Center. Their outlooks do provide value, especially when you follow them through the years. This doesn’t mean that they are never wrong. But the boundaries of their outlooks are clearly defined in numbers, and their techniques are based in sound science instead of lurking in the shadows.
This Month in Wilder Weather History
February 7, 1867: Laura Ingalls Wilder was born in Pepin, Wisconsin. About 140 miles to the east, a weather observer in Rocky Run, Wisconsin, recorded a high temperature of 44 degrees, quite mild for the date. The next day, Rocky Run saw a quarter inch of snow and a high of only 26.
February 10, 1957: Laura Ingalls Wilder died in Mansfield, Missouri. About 40 miles to the west, the weather observation in Springfield, Missouri, recorded a high temperature of 60 and a low of 35, which also is quite mild for the date.